Flying Lessons
by Weezila
Summary: Acrobat extraordinaire, resident child genius, and Gotham's very own Prince. Why the heck is he at Gotham Academy of all places? And WHY is he friends with the red headed scholarship girl?
1. Deal

"_School!?"_

"Gotham Academy to be precise," Bruce nodded, choosing to ignore the indignant cry Dick's objection had come out as.

Dick just stared at his father with wide, horrified eyes.

"You're kidding me. _Please_ tell me you're kidding me!?" He squeaked.

Bruce sighed and put the paper down, looking seriously at his son from across the breakfast table. "You're turning eleven next spring and have never been a normal school. It was accepted then because you couldn't even speak _English_—or at least, the public didn't _think_ you could—until this year, but now its socially neglectful of me _not_ to get my son an education." He explained calmly.

Dick wasn't buying it. "But you're _Bruce Wayne!_ YOU were homeschooled, so no one would think twice if I were homeschooled too! I'm not THAT bad, am I Alfred?!" He all but begged of the butler and current educator silently watching this conversation.

The old man simply lifted one correct eyebrow. "I will choose to refrain from commenting on this debate. I will however, simply wish my condolences on your future English teacher." He said dryly, turning on his heel and walking away, Dick gaping at his retreating form.

"Traitor!" He called after him, but Bruce just rolled his eyes and redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"I _was_ homeschooled, and look where it put me—in a cave." He pointed out.

Dick gave him a look. "Yeah, right, like that's an entirely BAD thing." He scoffed.

Bruce sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose in stress. "Dick… I swore when I took you in that I'd give you a normal life, that I wouldn't let you make my mistakes, to deal with loss through putting your life in danger… and I may have failed with part of that within three months due to underestimating your natural deductive skills and your stupid determination, but with all things considered I'm _determined_ to follow through with giving you a normal life the best I can. School is where I start."

Dick couldn't respond. It was sort of an unspoken subject: talking about _why_ they both became heroes. It was something they both understood, and that silent presence of understanding in each other was more than enough comfort most days, so bringing it up out of the blue like that was… well, it was a major signal to Dick that Bruce was dead serious about this.

Ok, he couldn't deny his intentions were in the right place. It was touching, really, but he still didn't want to go.

Time to switch tactics.

"You do know that I'll _walk in_ being smarter than every teacher in that school _combined_, correct?"

Bruce bit back yet another sigh. "Yes. I do." He said in a forced calm. "But the _education_ portion of attending school is not really what I was going for, more the experience than anything." He explained. "I know that you've been an adult mentally since you were a toddler, but hanging out with League members and criminals his hardly comforting to me. And even if Flash finally lets that nephew of his become his partner, that's hardly the kind of people you should be interacting with—to say, people in _costume._ You need _some_ normal in your life."

"And Gotham Academy is _normal?"_ Dick huffed. "In case you didn't notice, the people attending that school are _socialites_, as in, they're faker than if I went around handing out masks! Those aren't _normal_ people, and as the ward of the man who OWNS the school, I'm not truly expecting a warm welcome in honest arms, if you know what a mean!" He cried.

Bruce looked sullenly at his son.

"Dick. Please."

The gypsy boy couldn't come up with a comeback to _that_ either. Bruce didn't ask for things, he either took them, ordered people to do things, or tricked them into doing it anyway.

Again, it was serious.

But he STILL didn't want to go.

Except… she was smart, wasn't she? And she was real. Very real.

"I will go peacefully on one condition." Dick finally said evenly.

Bruce turned his head slowly to give the mischievous grin his son was wearing a thoroughly suspicious glare of his own.


	2. Invitation

Commissioner Gordon sighed, shifting through bill after bill in today's mail. It was hard, being a single father to a twelve year old girl and the one in charge of running not only one of the country's most corrupt police force but also working half-time as the Bat advocate against the critics who hated vigilantes (mostly because they were the crooks in disguise as socialites getting busted by said vigilantes). It would be easier if the Bat was just a LITTLE nicer to the public (as in, actually said a word to them) but then, he guessed, he wouldn't be Batman if he were.

Speaking of which, he tossed the hand-addressed letter thickly filled with hate mail over his shoulder without a backwards glance.

Everybody's a critic.

And he was tired from pulling a double shift, not to mention feeling less than stellar for being fifteen minutes late to Barbara's gymnastics meet earlier that afternoon. He'd made it in time to see her compete, but it still stung that he could have easily missed it altogether if one or two more things had gone wrong in his day—as they were want to do.

And he worried for his only daughter, he always did. He worried that he wasn't around enough for her, that she was too smart for the beat-up school that was all he could afford to send her to, that this dreary city was going to pull down her potential, that she was going to break her neck doing those martial arts or gymnastics of hers, that she'd never make the good friends she seemed to be sorely missing, that she'd stray coming home from school one day and he'd never see her again, that she'd fall into the wrong crowd (and there were many in Gotham—too many), that the scum of this city would hurt her to get to him, that they'd hurt her simply because she was turning into a very pretty young lady, that she'd grow up to hate him for this lack-luster life they'd been dealt and never come home, or the absolute worst in his mind…

She'd find a boy.

Ugh, he couldn't deal.

He was so consumed with these daily worries that he almost passed right by a new envelope that wasn't a bill and he nearly dismissed as another hate letter.

It was heavy, made of thick paper with fancy print across the front. It read:

_To The Parent of Barbara Gordon_

_-The Wayne Foundation-_

Wayne? As in, Bruce Wayne? Gotham's billionaire who ran and owned pretty much everything that went on in this city? Gordon was just eighteen and as green as they came when he was called out to his first homicide case—the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He'd comforted the eight year old boy then, and then all those years later he'd comforted a similar six year old acrobat after he'd watched his parents fall to their deaths, who then became that first child's ward.

It was a small world.

And Richard would be about ten now, right? Pretty close to Barbara's age, so except for the severe jump in income the two men on opposite ends of this letter could probably understand each other pretty well. That was, after all, was tipped the scales for Jim with Batman. He'd known and respected the vigilante for years, but he finally started to consider him a friend (after the initial shock and anger) once the dark knight had started showing up with that little bird of his in tow. He wasn't 100% sure about those two's relationship, but it seemed like a father/son situation, and even if not, Batman was certainly in charge of Robin like a parent would be.

There was just something about being fellow parents that just… clicked. There could be all the differences in the world, but being responsible for a child was something all good parents could connect with—styles aside. (After all, there was no way in hell Jim was about to let _his_ daughter run around on rooftops at night beating up crooks!)

He sighed, shaking those thoughts away as well and opening the envelope in curiosity.

He read a little bit, and then dropped in to the table in shock.


	3. Friend

Barbara glared at the man advancing on her with a knife, irritation seeping into her tremor of nerves. It was four in the afternoon for crying out loud! Muggers were getting lazy or impatient or something—shouldn't they be waiting for night or something?

"You're Gordon's kid," He grinned evilly, taking a step closer.

Oh, great. Another vengeance dispute.

"And you're ugly. Stop stating the obvious." She snarked back, slightly regretting it when he snarled and launched himself at her.

She managed to twist out of the way of the knife—thank you gymnastics!—and land a pretty fierce kick to his stomach—thank you martial arts!—but he was marginally bigger than her and had the sheer weight of his stupidity to slam her against the wall with. She cringed slightly as her head hit the brick with a crack, and inhaled sharply, ready to let out the mother of all screams to catch anyone's attention (though in Gotham, chances someone would help were… not so great), when the thug was suddenly on the ground, his knife skittering away.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that picking on someone smaller than you is just begging for karma to kick your ass?" A cheerfully snarky voice interrupted them, and Barbara sighed in relief at the familiar mop of black hair and caped back suddenly standing between her and her attacker. "Hello—I'm karma!" He cackled.

The thug only snarled and lurched unsteadily to his feet, clenching his meaty fists at the boy. "And what do they call beatin' your puny ass?" He grunted, stomping forward.

Robin just beamed. "Fun!—For _me._" He cheered, leaping up and twisting mid-air, his heel somehow finding precise purchase on the thug's jaw, sending him wheeling. The boy landed on his hands and spun out low, knocking the man's feet from under him and sending him crashing into the ground. Fast as you could blink, Robin had him pig-tied and a wrist computer hovering before his eyes, typing faster than you could see his individual fingers.

He shut off the screen and turned to Barbara with a grin. "We gotta stop meeting like this." He cackled.

The shock of her attack was quickly wearing off now that her hero friend was here, and she managed to grin broadly back. "Well, if you came 'round more than when I'm being mugged, maybe we would." She countered right back with a snap.

She had always liked the Boy Wonder, ever since his first mission out with Batman. Her mom had just died and her dad—drowned in the extra work he had to take on to support the two of them—had taken her into the station for lack of a better baby-sitting plan. On that night, she'd caught the first glimpse of the world's first child hero, and was instantly inspired. Even though her mom had died of sickness, at the young age of eight she felt like she should've done more to help save her. Seeing someone even slightly younger than her out there, helping people, saving the day, well… it was enticing.

As she grew, she understood that there was nothing she could've done to help her mother, but her drive to help people never stopped. She threw herself into martial arts and gymnastics, trying to copy the Boy Wonder and, though never coming close without Batman to train her, was still a great fighter if she did say so herself.

And, over the years since then, she'd often found herself with Robin for more than one occasion. Batman was always talking to her father on business, and Robin had the ability to listen into their conversation and also play with her on the rooftop of the Police station, the brilliant multi-tasker that he was. As the commissioner's daughter, she was always in danger or in some sort of trouble from outside threats, and while Batman was off putting the Joker back behind bars, Robin was hanging outside her window making sure no one was coming to steal her away when those threats arose— and he wasn't exactly one to pass up a good conversation instead of protecting in silence and unheard like his mentor might've done.

She had the feeling that Batman didn't have friends, but if he did, her dad would be one of the only ones who could boast of such a feat; not that the Commissioner would, humble as he was. She kinda figured that Robin hanging around her for her protection wasn't something her dad was exactly aware of, and sort of something the dynamic duo was doing out of respect for the only honest cop in Gotham.

Also, like in times like these, Robin was usually the one to appear from nowhere to save her.

And she couldn't say that she was complaining—she didn't have too many friends her age, more acquaintances that anything, and the Boy Wonder was always cheerful and funny. Not to mention a great fighter, her inspiration, and more her maturity level. She was smarter than most kids her age, and so she didn't hang out with them often. Robin was like her, and they got along great. Better than she did with anyone else besides her dad.

"We should go—your dad will be here in six minutes, and by then, you shouldn't be!" Robin smirked, looping his arm around her waist and slipping a grappling hook from around his belt. Before she could respond they were air born, but instead of being alarmed (she was far too used to this by now) she concentrated on studying the way his body arched in response to the pressures from the rope and holding a passenger. She wanted to someday do it too, so she took careful mental notes.

Their feet hit the rooftop and he released her, and she glanced down at the drop before turning to grin at him. "Race ya!" She laughed happily, turning heel and darting off across the roof.

"No fair!" He cried, but she could hear him grinning too. They raced, dodging air vents and using the curves and blocks to aid their speed, leaping over the gaps in the roofs like pros, and Robin occasionally scooping her up to cross a gap too big to cross without a grapple (though sometimes she'd jump anyway, just to see if she could, knowing if she failed he'd catch her—this training she saved for with him rather than on her own time when she could actually fall to her death).

He didn't comment as she took a slightly (quite a bit a lot) longer route home, practicing her rooftop running longer and stretching her time with her hero friend. He was always appearing from nowhere, apparently racing ahead then circling back to scare her, playing around expertly with those ninja skills of his, and teasing her while also giving her pointers, like how to angle your ankles after a long jump or where to place your hands when flipping over a barricade. He might not have known it (or, maybe he did, considering who he was) but he was also a great gymnastics trainer, pointing out when her toes aren't tucked right in her flips, or when her arms are bent incorrectly in a spin. He had an eagle eye, and it was fabulous for her routines, because she was a very fast learner, and he caught more things than all her trainers at the gym combined.

They finally made it back to her apartment after a good hour of running, and of course, as usual, he won, though she didn't quite doubt that he would.

She easily slipped down the fire escape with him in tow, ducking in her window (spare key in the sole of her shoe for occasions like this) and collapsing on her bed while he balanced cross-legged on the window sill.

"You're getting better." He noted with an amused smirk.

"I'm twelve, I better be." She shot right back with a grin. "And you missed my birthday you jerk. Thanks, really." She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"I did not!" He cried indignantly, a sly grin crossing his lips. "Look under your bed."

She stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment, before coming to her senses and scrambling off her bed and looking underneath it. There, hiding behind books, missing socks, and a few shoe boxes of storage, was a small black box with Robin's signature "R" symbol on the top. She blinked in shock before pulling it out and sitting back on her bed. She shot him a suspicious look.

"How did you do that?" She demanded.

He grinned evilly. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know." He cackled

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the box, lifting the lid curiously. She stared at the contents for a moment before it sunk in.

"Is this a communicator?" She gasped, picking up what looked like a palm-sized device, sleek black and gold, just like the one Robin had on his tool-belt that he often took to listening to when Batman was calling him back from her. It even came with a tiny ear piece, pretty much invisible and light-weight when wearing, so you could listen and talk separately.

"Yep." He told her proudly. "My own secured signal, so the Bat doesn't exactly know about it… yet. He IS the world's greatest detective, he'll figure it out eventually, but I doubt he'll mind. That one isn't even remotely connected to any other Bat signals and is pretty much _only _used for contacting this one," He said, slipping a matching device from his belt and grinning cockily. "Figured there was a solution to only seeing you when you're about to be kidnapped or stabbed." She shrugged easily, but she was internally giddy with joy.

On the outside she was still shell-shocked, but she was doing an excited victory dance in her head.

"Oh my god… just… _thank you."_ She said breathlessly. She didn't want to admit he was her only friend, and was kinda hoping (as the world SECOND greatest detective) he already knew.

"To be honest… you're my only friend even remotely my age. It'd be nice to talk once in a while." The Boy Wonder confessed, and she blinked.

"Were you reading my mind?" She blurted out, before instantly regretting it and wanting to reel it back in as quickly as possible…

And then both their words sunk in, and they blushed slightly but shared a small smile.

"Are you excited for school?" Robin changed the subject, slipping back into their casual air.

She blinked, an older excitement surfacing again. "Yeah! Well, this year I am! I got accepted into Gotham Academy on a scholarship for my academics and gymnastics! So, maybe this year won't be so boring, and maybe I can actually talk to people who _aren't_ complete morons." She sighed contentedly.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" He joked.

"You are moderately intelligent, yes." She amended with a mocking grin.

"Hey!" He cried.

"But really, I'm excited for a fresh start and everything! It'll be fun, I hope." She finished. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that this was the first time she'd ever heard him talk about school, and that signaled to her as important for some reason. "Are you excited for school?" She asked curiously. After all, he was roughly her age, he had to go to school too, didn't her? Vigilante hero or not, right?

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess. I like being Robin though, you know? Being my normal self is _boring_, and having to go to school for eight hours a day and NOT be Robin is…"

"Boring?" She finished with a sympathetic smile.

"YES!" He huffed. "I mean, I LIKE being my normal self _sometimes, _like, when I'm hanging out or something, but when I'm with other people I'd much rather be Robin than me, you know?" He ranted.

"No, not really," She said honestly. "I'm only ever me, so, no. But, I can get that you'd rather be some famous hero than the average Joe. You know… I'm trying to, you know… be a hero too…" She kind of figured he already guessed that, but this was the first time she'd admitted it aloud. The fact he didn't comment and just kept nodding along was a good sign, but she couldn't tell—he had a killer poker face. "I would bet that if you spend so much time and energy in being a hero, being a normal person who does relatively nothing—that you can tell people about at least—is hard. I'd bet it's hard to relate to _other_ normal people."

He stared at her for a moment. "Yeah… I guess that's my problem." He sighed. He then tilted his head and gave her a funny look. "You're remarkably understanding for someone who has not yet been in a mask outside Halloween." He noted calmly.

Her heart fluttered as he said 'not yet'.

There was hope…!

Outwardly she only smiled knowingly. "I'm smart, or didn't the world's second greatest detective figure that out already?" She joked.

He grinned back at her. "Oh, I knew. But being smart and being understanding are different. When you're smart, you _know_ things, but when you're understanding, you _see_ things. Crucial difference." He smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind." She noted briskly, smiling broadly at her new present.

Just then, they both heard the front door open and Jim Gordon's slightly panicked voice called out: "Barbara!? Please tell me you're home and the guy I just arrested didn't hurt you!?" He sounded more panicked by the second.

"I'm here, Dad! Don't worry, got home safe!" She called back to comfort him, standing as he approached her door through the apartment. She glanced to the window, but Robin was gone.

Her new communicator vibrated gently in her hand, and she saw a message blinking back at her, reading

_**Rob- **__Make sure that you do :P_

She smiled, dropping it to the bed and pulling her covers over it just as her Dad burst through the door, visibly relaxing when he lay eyes on her, unharmed. He sighed heavily, "Oh thank god." He pulled her into a hug as she went to him.

"Robin showed up and brought me home." She told him the extremely edited version.

He sighed again, though this time mixed in with a chuckle. "The Bats are uncanny at that. I'll need to thank him next time I see them. Which, odds are, will probably be tonight." He admitted. He frowned, pulling back and turning her around to pull sticky note off her back. "Um… what's this?"

"What's what?" She asked curiously, frowned as well when he showed her the sticky note.

It read:

_Dear Comish—_

_Babs mighta hit her head in the scuffle, though she'd never admit it. Just for your reference :P_

_-Robin_

"Oh that troll!" She huffed.

"Babs," Her father sighed wearily.

"Fine, fine, I'll go sit down or something, but he's still a troll!" She growled.

"Whatever you say honey." He sighed, kissing her on the forehead and shaking his head at the note in his hand while leaving to get her the aspirin her soon-to-be headache would need.

Bats.

Life with them was difficult to say the least, but they could never live without them.


	4. Sentence

"I must point out that on the average day, you are all but _excited_ to be fighting people like Bane or Harley Quinn, surely this isn't as bad?" Alfred commented, the hint of amusement only Dick could hear ringing through.

Dick just crossed his arms and glared out the front window of the sleek black Lexus Alfred was driving him to Gotham Academy in. September first had come far too early for Dick's taste, but at last, here he was in this stupid uniform with his stupidly combed hair and stupidly easy class schedule clenched in his very unhappy fist.

"I can be Robin then. Now I have to be _Richard Grayson—_stuck up brat and boring socialite. For _eight hours_ every day! What is there to be excited about!?" He huffed back.

"There is nothing saying you can't be Dick Grayson—the charming young man you are. Master Bruce implied you should stick to playing a role far removed from your Robin persona, but that does not mean most don't already know you grew up in the circus and are hardly the '_brat',_ as you put it." Alfred pointed out calmly. "I'm sure Master Bruce would wish you to be happy first, you know that."

Dick huffed and glared out the window again. He liked to sit up front to talk to Alfred, not in the back like most people expected him to be chauffeured around like. Alfred may have been their butler, but he was also Dick's grandfather in every way, shape, and form except by blood. Even in the circus Dick never knew any sort of grandparent—Gypsies never tended to stick around for very long after all. His little nuclear family on the high ropes was a rare thing, and his extended family in the rest of the circus was all he needed. Maybe Pop Haley could be seen as a grandfather, but he wasn't like Alfred, who was always around and always there to answer the curious young boy's many, _many_ questions.

Still, talking to Alfred today wasn't helping him. He still didn't want to go.

Earlier in the month, Bruce had taken him to the school to speak with the Principal about enrolling him there, and _that_ was about as horrible as Dick wanted it to get. Seeing as Gotham Academy was super-secretly private (Bruce Wayne WAS known for his trust issues) and run exclusively by donations from the wealthy who send their kids here and Bruce Wayne… who OWNED the entire school…

Well, let the sucking up commence.

The Wayne family had owned the school forever, but Bruce himself had never gone there, and since for the time when Bruce was too young to run the empire of Wayne Enterprises the school had become largely self-sufficient on the annual automatic funds given by Wayne Enterprises and the extra donations of parents. Recently however, since about oh say four years ago, coincidentally when Bruce had adopted a certain six year old acrobat, Gotham Academy's funds had started going up and he himself had started getting more involved in it, creating harder and more prestigious course work, requiring more physical education, supporting more lavish and culturally enriching field trips, and all around making the school the palace that education should be.

All of Gotham's public schools were experiencing similar increases in fund, but since the school board and a lot of the teachers were rather corrupt, it wasn't going so well. But, a school strictly owned by such an honest businessman as Mr. Wayne was the envy of the nation, if not for the fact those kids would have to live in Gotham, which was not.

They didn't have to be detectives to figure out what Bruce Wayne was doing, and yet it still came as a surprise. Why else would he refocus his energies into his school the same time he adopted a child?

But _noooo_, they were still floundering and overly accommodating and all the crap Dick hated. Bruce wasn't like that, not really, but he was _supposed_ to act like the snobby know-it-all owner of a massive empire-like company, and he hated THAT part of being Bruce Wayne's ward. Everything else was awesome—he was a pretty cool dad at home, and THE freakin' BATMAN at night, but during the day…

God he hated rich people. Or, what rich people expected other rich people to act like.

Anyway, the main point was that the teachers now all knew he was coming, but the students didn't. Bruce had kept this entire story very tightly under wraps—he knew Dick was already dragging his heels, and having to put up with reporters and paparazzi his first day of school on top of that would not be well received.

And, maybe Dick was a little scared.

After all, he already knew he could handle any course work they threw at him (nothing would be as hard as the things Alfred asked him to do) and he wasn't really expecting to make any real friends (because if he couldn't tell them about being Robin, what was the point really?), but the fact of the matter was that he had never been to school before. He knew all about it from pop culture and TV and other stuff, but even just that brief visit with Bruce had made him slightly nervous. He was smaller and younger than most kids going to this school, and the vast hallways were big and imposing, especially once they filled with kids who'd all know where they were going…

Of course, he'd hacked the blueprints of the school, so he knew where everything was even better than the teachers, but knowing wasn't the same as being comfortable.

He was a fast learner, he was sure he'd get the hang of it real quick, but this first day was still slightly unsettling. After all, Bats had to know and be prepared before every situation, and this wasn't something he could prepare for. Still, it wasn't like his life was on the line this time, so no one was particularly worried he was being tossed into the unknown.

"You are over thinking this." Alfred stated, not asking, breaking Dick from his inner turmoil.

He sighed heavily. "I can't help it." He complained, earning himself a small smirk from the old man.

"For better or for worse, I will have cookies ready for when you arrive home." The butler said calmly, and Dick turned to him with a smile.

"Bribery. Nice. It's definitely appreciated though." He chuckled.

"And feel free to invite Ms. Gordon once you track her down." He added in, and Dick straightened up, liking that idea a lot. Maybe he couldn't be Robin around her, but he could still be her friend, right? He _was_ a circus kid, they still had gymnastics in common, even if he couldn't go all-out like he did as his vigilante side.

The main problem was that he didn't know how to get over the age difference here—he was a ten year old going into advanced classes (he wasn't in a specific "grade" so to speak, because he was mentally capable of taking and acing any class offered at this school, so he was taking a myriad of all different topics at all levels so that he could accumulate the credits he'd need to graduate, but he was still labeled a "6th grader") and she was twelve and though ahead a grade and in advanced classes, still had the social barriers of age barring him. Plus, she was a scholarship kid and he was at the opposite end of the spectrum, being the son of the man who _gave out_ those scholarships.

So far, their friendship wasn't looking so socially ok.

Not that he cared, but Richard Grayson should care, and there was his dilemma.

He was taken from over-thinking it yet again when they pulled up to the school. He let out a pained sighed, glancing out the window at the tall white building in dread.

"You will be fine Master Richard. I will pick you up at 2:45, and I believe Master Bruce will also be there by the time we get home to hear about your day, yes?" Alfred said soothingly.

Dick sighed and banged his head against the door in frustration.

"Yeah… ok. See you later then Alfred." He inhaled deeply, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag before opening the door and stepping out, giving his grandfather a morose wave as the butler smiled kindly and then drove away. He turned and faced the next few years of his life with a falsely confident gait and heavy heart.


	5. Map

Barbara was already lost, and she hadn't been at school for more than ten minutes.

She was starting to realize skipping a grade wasn't so great as she'd initially thought it'd be, even with the added bonus that she wasn't leaving any friends behind. While the 6th graders her age were being hand-held through the halls with guides pointing out their classes, the 7th and 8th graders she was attending class with already knew where they were going and were just going there without leaving anything for her to follow.

She had a map that she'd memorized, but there was still an uncertainty factor about approaching classrooms already filled with kids talking to their friends about their summers and getting comfortable in a familiar routine she knew nothing about.

Her first class was English, with Ms. Monroe.


	6. Blueprint

Dick's first class was English, with Ms. Monroe. He'd opted for a slightly more basic English course seeing as he'd only been speaking the language fluently for just under two years now. The first two years he'd lived at Wayne Manor, both Bruce and Alfred had spoken various languages (mainly French, as that was Alfred's best language and one of Dick's favorites) to ease the new member into the stable life of_ not_ moving every other week and gradually train him into English.

Once they realized just how fast Dick could learn something though, it only took them three months of work to get him fluent, and another three to lose his accent. He didn't like English the way he liked the way French and Italian flowed, or the strict finesse of Hungarian and German, or the challenges of languages with new alphabets like Chinese, Greek, Arabic, Russian, or even American Sign Language. And it was most certainly far from his original language of Gypsy Romani. Most people assumed Gypsy was slang of a language, but that was far from it.

Circus Gypsies were unique in that they picked up people from all over the world, and thus their languages had all started to meld together at one point. Each Gypsy must know dozens upon dozens of languages to _speak "_Gypsy", because they only used their favorite words from each language. For example, Dick loved the German word for "Aunt", but when he'd learned it he had a very heavy Romanian accent, so his word for Aunt was so different from everyone else's it got complicated very quickly the more people were talking that way. That was why is was primarily a spoken language: because there were no 'rules' it was just a feeling you got from knowing so many languages so thoroughly that you could follow along with what someone—who was using random words with different accents from different languages with different grammatical rules, etc.— was saying.

It wasn't something you learned, it was something you grew into and just knew, though Bruce and Alfred were giving it their best shot.

But he spoke mostly English now adays because everyone else around him did, even a large portion of the League. It wasn't as comfortable as other languages to him though, so he stuck to the earlier level classes with it in hopes he wouldn't have to do too much with it just yet. He could, but he didn't want to.

He glanced at his map briefly, already knowing what it would tell him from the blueprints in his head, but just to double check, and set off to that first class. He was correct in thinking this place would be different when full, and it wasn't doing much for his confidence the way everyone was looking _down_ at him as he passed. Yes, he was short, he got it, but people didn't have to wait until they were three feet from him to point their chins at the ground to glance at him.

As a result of being so small and in a hallway of teenagers whose observation skills and personal awareness were not their strong suit, he got jostled around a lot. And he couldn't just slip around them utilizing his ninja skills, because ten year old boys shouldn't be able to do that.

It was going to be a _long_ day.

He found the right classroom and only hesitated a moment at the door to glance around the surroundings. He noted that everyone seemed to already know each other, which was just another reason this day was going to take forever.

He slipped in the best he could without attracting attention, and though he saw a few kids glance over at him curiously, they mostly ignored him as he retreated to a few empty desks in the back. He vaguely wondered if he was supposed to say hi to the teacher since he was new and all, but decided against it.

He glanced at the schedule again and then his watch, already counting the minutes until the day was over.


	7. Meeting

Barbara stepped into her first class mere seconds before the bell rang signaling school to start. All the kids in the room began taking their seats, and she scanned about looking for an open spot. She'd just spotted one in the back when the teacher stepped forward.

"Are you Ms. Gordon? You're new to this school this year, right?" She asked gently. She looked nice, with long brown hair and chocolate eyes, a sleeveless white dress blouse and black pencil skirt and cute black kitten heels. She was young, and not threatening, and Barbara sighed in mental relief that her first teacher wasn't a demon. She could deal with tough teachers, but not so early on her first day.

"Uh, yeah." She nodded meekly.

Ms. Monroe just smiled kindly. "Excellent! We have two new students this year, why don't you sit together? Richard?" She asked, glancing around the room. A boy with dark black hair and the most vibrant blue eyes Barbara had ever seen sat up a littler straighter in the back and lifted his hand hesitantly to mark his presence.

Barbara simply nodded and walked quickly to the back with her head down, wanting to be out of the center of attention as quickly as possible. As she slid into the seat next to the boy, Ms. Monroe started handing out sheets of paper and explaining who she was, what she taught, classroom rules, etc, etc. The standard stuff about being courteous and hard-working that everyone had heard a hundred different times.

Barbara slipped out a folder for this class and glanced briefly at the boy beside her. He looked uncomfortable and troubled, like he wanted to say something but was opting to just stare at the teacher out of defeat.

"I'm Barbara." She said with a small smile to him. He snapped his head around to her in surprise, big blue eyes blown wide.

He smiled a pearly grin at her. "I'm, uh… Richard. Call me Dick though." He nodded his greeting, his voice sounding unsure.

"So…" She said awkwardly. She hated small talk. "You're new too? What brings you here this year?" She asked curiously.

He shifted uncomfortably, eyeing her carefully. "I, uh… I've never actually been to school before. I was home schooled, and then my father decided I needed to have a 'real school experience' or whatever. Not completely thrilled, but…" He shrugged giving her a lopsided grin. "So… what brings you here then?"

She blushed a little. "Oh, I'm, uh, here on scholarship. I used to go to Gotham East Public School but my grades were good enough that they asked me to attend here. I do gymnastics too, pretty competitively, not to mention they sent a whole packet on their gymnastics team, so I think they want me to join that too." She shrugged, babbling a little out of nerves. She knew 95% of the kids here were here because they were insanely rich and that there were only 17 kids on scholarship attending right now in the entire school, so chances were this boy was living an extremely different lifestyle at home than her. She wondered/feared for a moment if that would put him off, but relaxed as he nodded in understanding, his face not betraying that it was any big deal to him.

"That's impressive." He smiled kindly at her. "You must have some real brains to do that." He complimented, and she blushed even heavier. He only grinned at her discomfort. "And as for the scholarships, I personally _know_ that they'd never withdraw it simply because you _didn't_ join the team. You earned it and it's yours for your time here until you graduate, but if you're as good as you say then I don't see why you _wouldn't."_ He told her with a challenging nod.

She didn't know what authority another new kid would have on this subject, but the confidence he spoke with was reassuring. The pressure to find the team immediately was lifted, and suddenly it was just another personal goal again. It eased her mind.

"Thanks. I think I'll try out anyway then." She smiled. "Are you into any sports?"

He shrugged. "Not really, no… I like gymnastics as well I guess, but not competitively. For exercise and my own personal entertainment more than anything." He smiled. "Perhaps we could teach each other something."

She couldn't help but grin. She had _Robin_ as a friend and sometimes-trainer, she sincerely doubted there was something this kid could teach her that Robin hadn't already gone over with a fine-toothed comb.

"Sure." She agreed. Even though she doubted he could help, it was still interesting that the first person she met was also into gymnastics. It was like it was meant to be. "So, what other classes do you have today?" She asked curiously.

He slipped out his schedule and sighed. "I've got Biochemistry next, AP Calculus, AP comparative governments then lunch, Sociology, AP French, gym and then a study hall." He told her, and her jaw dropped.

"Holy _crap_, what are you, some sort of superbrain?!" She squeaked, instantly regretting it by the few odd looks those around them were shooting their way. She also realized she wasn't talking very refined-like, the way most rich kids here did, so she was really playing up the gap between her and those around her. Even if Dick didn't mind, it still made her feel uncomfortable.

Richard just chuckled though. "A little bit like that, I suppose." He allowed. "I had a very good home-school teacher. My grandfather actually, and let me tell you he's tougher than nails when it comes to either tracking mud in the house or not doing your homework." He joked, but Barbara was still staring at the paper in shock.

"Well… I guess the good part is we're in the same lunch, gym, and study hall. I take French same time as you, but I'm in beginners 101." She sighed shaking her head in amazement.

He grinned. "Well, you teach me competitive gymnastics and I'll teach you French, deal?" She blinked, looking up at his sparkling blue eyes. How strange that she'd only met him ten minutes ago and they were already making plans on hanging out. And oddly enough, she wasn't put-off by the fast pace or the sudden contact with another person after going years in grade school without any friends at all. Dick was familiar in some way, like she _knew_ she'd end up being friends with him all along.

It made no sense seeing as he was so different from Robin—who was cocky and like a hyper humming bird, while Richard was calm, modest, and put together—but he was also just similar enough to catch her attention. The sly smile and easy-going nature, the cleverness and the puppy-dog eyes (even though she'd never seen Robin's eyes, she could picture the look quite well). He was just different enough to be a stranger, but just familiar enough to make her want to skip over the stranger part and go right to being friends bit.

"Deal." She agreed.


	8. Revelations

Dick couldn't believe his luck as he and Barbara sat together during lunch, talking about their morning classes.

Not the luck with his classes—which he was quickly finding out he had _none—_but the luck that the making new friends with someone he already knew in a different way but who didn't know him was going so well. Barbara wasn't stupid, not at all, and he knew he had to watch what he said and did very carefully to make sure she didn't put together who he really was (**yet**—fingers crossed) but besides that nagging feeling he was almost _enjoying_ being his normal civilian self.

With Barbara at least.

His classes were boring as purgatory, and before he made exceptions for it being the first day, one quick glance down the class syllabus/agenda for the year and Dick already knew he could sleep through class and still ace it. And, worse still, was that in the following two classes after the quiet English class he had first block, the teachers did a roll call to make sure everyone was there.

When they'd gotten to "Richard Grayson", every head in the classroom had turned to stare at him, and he'd had to draw on every ounce of self control Batman had ever taught him not to make faces at them, or then flip off the students who kept staring five minutes after everyone else had started paying attention to the teacher again.

Barbara had looked shocked when she told him that.

"Ok, first of all, you don't exactly seem like the 'flip them off' kind of kid to me, and secondly, why were they staring?" She asked the second part hesitantly.

Dick mentally went over everything they'd discussed and realized that she'd never reacted to his name before, therefore she probably didn't know who he was. Which, was on the upside seeing as he had no reputation with her to live up to, but on the downside was that now **he** had to tell her, and might just scare her off.

He quickly hid those thoughts and just smiled a bit wryly. "High society rules state I'm not _supposed_ to be the 'flip them off' kind of guy, but I wasn't exactly raised in high society, so it's harder to remember sometimes." He sighed. "I was actually raised in the circus, so acting like I'm one of these rich kids is…"

"A challenge." Barbara supplied, looking completely fascinated as well as comforted at that confession. He supposed being here on scholarship she'd been thinking of the lines drawn by social status and wealth quite a lot today.

He smiled a bit warmer as he nodded. "Yeah, sometimes. I couldn't help but notice that you were reluctant to say you were on scholarship, which, I won't lie, probably _is_ some kind of fault to some of these kids around here, but to me it just means you're real. I don't like fake people, even though I'm one of them when I have to be." He sighed, surprising even himself in his honesty. It was strange, he didn't have to sensor himself the same way he did when he was Robin. He still had to sensor himself but… differently, about different things. It was odd.

"Well I'm glad I found a friend who's not totally stuck up. That would get old _real_ fast." Barbara snickered, and Dick beamed at her.

"And I can honestly say I'm glad to have a friend who doesn't mind that I'm not really stuck up!" He chirped right back, and she grinned while sadly shaking her head.

"The people these days, honestly." She huffed.

"Tell me about it." Dick agreed with an eye roll.

"So… that still doesn't explain why there were staring." She asked curiously with a slight tilt of her head.

He bit his lip. "Well… truthfully there's no reason for people to stare, but my dad sorta owns this school so I guess the students here kinda have to know who I am…"

Barbara's eyes bugged out, but besides that she didn't react.

"Your…your dad is Bruce Wayne." She said, her voice slightly higher than before.

He sighed in defeat. "Yeah. That's how I knew about the scholarships and stuff." He admitted, remaining silent as she slowly worked through it in her head.

"Oh." She finally said. After another long moment, "So…uh…. actually, I didn't know Bruce Wayne had a son." She blurted out bluntly.

Dick blinked, a little surprised at the change of topics, but eventually cracked a smile that she wasn't running away just yet. "Well, you obviously live under a rock then, don't you?" He teased and she stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled, "He took me in when I was six, so I'm his ward or whatever the socialites call it. It doesn't matter because I call him dad and that's that, adopted or not."

"You're not actually adopted?" She said hesitantly, looking for signs he didn't want to talk about it, but he seemed fine with telling her at least.

"No, not officially." He admitted, picking at the table absentmindedly. "There are some sort of legal blocks to it so that billionaires can't just go around adopting orphanages and then neglecting them and stuff, which, is incredibly stupid seeing as I know of no billionaires who'd do such a thing, but whatever." He rolled his eyes. "He's said he wants to though, and that's good enough for me." He shrugged.

Barbara seemed to sense the subject was closed, so she moved to another one. "And before that you were in the circus? That must've been _amazing! _ That's what you meant about gymnastics, didn't you? Acrobatics?" She asked eagerly—_this_ was a topic she knew something about.

He beamed. "Yep! Haley's International Circus. My parents and I were called the Flying Graysons; we were trapeze artists. I still do it as much as I can, just to keep it alive…" He trailed off, glancing off across the courtyard where they sat eating (or not touching and talking over) their lunches.

He was the orphaned ward of Bruce Wayne, so Barbara didn't ask the follow up of what happened to the elder two Flying Graysons. She'd only just met him after all, despite how close they felt already, and that question could be saved for another day.

"I have to ask—what was that like? Going from the _circus_—which is completely awesome, by the way—to living with _Bruce Wayne?_ I mean, talk about a one-eighty! He's so…" She trailed off, but by her wide green eyes Dick knew exactly what she thought Bruce was.

He chuckled. "It was… interesting. I will however, point out that Bruce isn't quite… a socialite, I guess is the nicest way to say it, as you think. I'm not supposed to flip people off, but it doesn't mean I don't want to. Bruce isn't supposed to be anything but some playboy philanthropist, but that doesn't mean he is. I mean, that doesn't mean that's _all_ he is, because he most certainly is a playboy philanthropist!" Dick cackled, and Barbara looked fascinated.

"So he's like… an actual dad and stuff?" She wondered.

He nodded with a fond smile. "We play basketball when one of us is upset. He likes to embarrass me in front of friends, and I like to call him an old man even though he's most certainly not. He's a completely normal guy when he's not being the 'Bruce Wayne' the world wants him to be." Dick said, editing out the other very important father/son bonding experience they shared and deciding "normal" could be taken as _normal_ for someone who likes to dress up and fight crime.

"That's amazing." Barbara admitted, smiling as well. "I just never… I mean, of everything so far I think that's the most important thing I've learned today." She decided. "I guess we're all just people, behind the masks."

_Wow, if only you knew how incredibly true that is._ Dick thought in amusement to himself.

He decided that was enough about him for today. "So, what's your dad like?" He asked. If he was standing by his previous statement, even if he knew Jim Gordon as the commissioner, that didn't mean that was _all_ he was.

She smiled a bit tiredly. "A workaholic." She said truthfully. "But honestly, I love that about him. Sometimes I think he's the only honest cop on Gotham, and other times, I _know it._ He tries so hard, but he's only one man and can't do everything at once. Like at my last meet, he nearly missed me perform, and I know if he had he'd be completely crushed. I don't know if _I_ would mind terribly, but I know he would. He works too hard, but he's a great guy. Caring dad and all that." She explained, ranting a bit of her worry.

Dick smiled in sympathy. "He sounds great. You seem like his caretaker on top of his daughter though." He poked her jokingly and she rolled her eyes, picking at her sandwich.

"Yeah, sometimes. I don't think he realizes I worry about his just as much as he worries about me. It's a tangled web we weave." She smiled a bit sadly.

"Actually… I think I can relate." Dick said, surprising himself with his honesty, yet again. At her curious look he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I know Bruce and I don't have the typical problems, but sometimes it's just… everything going on in the world, Bruce tends to lose himself a lot. In work or his passion to help people, and the hard truth is that not everyone can be saved. I think I understood that early on: living in the circus, things like sickness and poverty were just… there. They never went away. Bruce… I don't know, he pushes himself too hard trying to do good, and he's always afraid I'm not going to turn out ok because he doesn't know how to be a good father, and all the while I'm just worried he's going to worry himself to death as he get overly concerned with making sure me and the world are all ok." He tried to explain.

Her wide green eyes were surprised, but actually seemingly happy about the confession.

"Same situation, worlds apart." She slowly grinned. "Fathers trying to make sure we're ok and we're just worried they're going to go overboard in ensuring that."

He grinned. "Yep. Pretty much. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one who feels like the parent of their parent sometimes."

She let out a clear laugh. "No, you're definitely not alone." She allowed.


	9. Grins

"You seem rather chipper." Alfred noted dryly.

Dick grinned at him from that passenger seat. "I invited Barbara over Friday, if that's ok." He said, not bothering to answer the old butler's implied question directly.

As it was, Alfred just nodded once and put the car in drive. "I'll be sure to prepare some fresh cookies for the occasion."


	10. and Smiles

"You like the school then?" Jim asked his daughter hopefully. He'd gotten back too late the night before to ask her, as she'd already gone to bed, but he was up and heading out the door the same time she was the following morning and couldn't help but notice the big excited grin on her face as she slipped her backpack on.

She smiled up at him reassuringly. "I do dad, I really do."


	11. Eyes

"…and he was really sweet, ya know? It's nice to know not all big shots like that are jerks. Gives me faith for Gotham again."

"And what do I do then? Run around in spandex for fun?"

"I _hope_ those aren't spandex! One, that would be very weird, and two, I've seen the bullets shoot your way! But that's not the point, you're breaking the law to give people hope. People shouldn't need to break laws to find good; I'm just happy that's not really the case for all of Gotham."

Robin tilted his head to the side by half an inch, which Barbara had quickly picked up meant he was keying into some signal Batman was putting off. The Dark Knight and the Commissioner stood to the side of the spotlight, discussion the latest crime that had to be dealt with, while the Commissioner's daughter and the world's first underage hero talked amiably about school across the roof.

"So how was _your_ school then? Did you survive eight hours as your normal boring self?" She teased him lightly.

He grinned. "I met someone too. They seemed to actually like my _normal boring_ self." He responded evenly.

Her smile softened from its joking manner. "That's all you can ask for in someone, I guess." She shrugged, and he chuckled softly as they fell into an easy silence. They listen to Jim Gordon's urgent tone and Batman's soft growl like background chatter for a moment.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you everything, Babs." Robin said suddenly, giving her a funny look. "You are someone who'd like me for my boring traits too, I hope. God knows I sure like you for yours." He said honestly, finishing it up with a flashing, coy smile.

Her mind reeled at that statement for a moment. It was the first time he'd _ever_ apologized for being a hero, for not telling her who he was. So many firsts in such a short time, it made her head spin.

But her head was spinning for another reason as well.

He liked her for her boring traits.

Didn't she _just_ say that was all you could ask for in someone?

"Don't apologize." She finally decided. "One of these days I'm going to have a mask of my own, and I sure as hell am not going to apologize for keeping things close to the chest." She shrugged.

He seemed surprised by that, and smiled a bit. "You forget that unless you're trained by _him,"_ He thrust his thumb over his shoulder to point at his mentor. "You're not going to be able to slip much past me, you know that right?"

"I'm working on that." Barbara tried to say it cryptically, but by his raised eyebrow she knew she hadn't fooled him one bit. She shrugged it off and switched tactics. "You know, I like this guy I met because he reminds me a lot of you." She admitted, and it worked: he looked momentarily thrown and alarmed. Sufficiently distracted in her opinion.

"What!? How?" He said, looking baffled and slightly suspicious.

She shrugged noncommittally, getting a kick at how uncomfortable he looked at this. It wasn't often she could turn the tables like this. "I don't know… just in the way he smiled. I know I've never seen your eyes, but I'm fairly certain you have the same eyes too. You both give the impression of being able to pull off a killer puppy dog look."

While he held almost too still for a brief second, he quickly shook it off and grinned manically at her.

"Puppy dog look…? I have no idea what you mean, I'm sure." He sniffed in feigned arrogance, and she laughed.

"Yeah, right! Don't think for a second you're fooling anyone here! Don't think I don't know that how you get Batman to do _anything_ your way." She scolded him lightly.

"Shhh!" He mockingly hushed her. "This is trade secrets here!" He stage whispered.

She leaned in, mock whispering back, "Don't think those baby blues of yours will work on me bird boy!"

"Never said I had blue eyes," He shot right back, a big grin on his face.

She sniffed imperiously. "Then prove me wrong, I _dare_ you."

He opened his mouth to respond with the ever-present witty comeback, but instead his head tilted a little bit again.

"Chicken." She said quickly, before he even had a chance to say he had to go.

He gave her a stern look, but she could practically feel the amused mirth coming off of him. "This isn't over Gordon." He said in mock seriousness.

"Whatever you say, officer bird brains." She responded in equally mock seriousness.

They shared a brief look in which neither broke their "stern" looks, until he whipped around and jumped off the roof, his cackling laughter echoing back through the darkness.


End file.
